


Commander and Chief

by jellymankelly



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Established Relationship, F/F, Swearing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-23
Updated: 2015-05-27
Packaged: 2018-03-31 19:59:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3990841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jellymankelly/pseuds/jellymankelly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Sorry, what was your question, Lexa?" "I heard a word today and I wished to ask you what it meant. It's one I have heard before, but only from the Sky people." Clarke cocks her head, curious. "Of course." "What is a 'fuck'?"  M for coarse language and sexual themes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> As a result of a prompt and a conversation with the nefarious chuckleshan , I wrote a Clarke x Lexa thing. It's not exactly canon-compliant so much as canon adjacent. Same world, but Anya and Gustus are still alive, and Mt Weather was won by battle, rather than betrayal and subsequent desperate measures. Established relationship between Clarke and Lexa. I think that covers it.
> 
> Fair warning, due to the nature of the prompt, there will be profanities abound.
> 
> Updates should be weekly, assuming I can keep to a schedule for once in my life. Enjoy!

"Raven, one of the monitors in the medbay is on the fritz again, can you-" **  
**

"Shut up, Clarke."

Clarke halts abruptly, surprised into silence by Raven's curt tone. They had been getting along well enough the past few weeks - or as well as anyone who isn't Wick could get along where the surly mechanic is concerned, and even he seems to walk a knife's edge most days. Softening her voice and taking a few tentative steps closer, she tries again.

"Raven, I-"

"Shut.  _Up_. Clarke."

Raven doesn't look up from her hunched position. Sidling around her carefully, Clarke steps up to the workbench Raven is bent over and scans the scrambled array of parts, pieces, and wires littering the rough wooden surface. A high-pitched squeal suddenly breaks the silence, followed by a tiny shower of sparks that skitter across the bench. Raven lurches back, swearing viciously as she pats away any remaining embers clinging to her shirt.

"Dammit! Piece of shit transponder. Why the fuck didn't we upgrade to solar-ugh. Whatever. What's up, Clarke?"

Clarke stares blankly, thrown by the now-friendly address.

"Uh…"

Raven cocks an eyebrow expectantly. "Yes?"

Deciding it would probably be better to just let it go, Clarke shakes her head to clear it and straightens her shoulders.

"That monitor in the medbay is doing the thing again where it doesn't work. When you get a chance, can you take a look?"

"You got it, Chief."

Clarke narrows her eyes curiously. "Chief?"

Raven shrugs, but doesn't hide the teasing glint in her expression. "Seemed appropriate."

Knowing she's being baited, but unable to let it go, Clarke bites. "How so?"

Raven juts her chin in the general direction of Lexa's tent. "Commander," she clarifies, and then nods at Clarke, "and Chief."

Clarke scoffs, rolling her eyes. "Pretty sure those were traditionally intended to describe one person, Reyes."

Raven fixes her with an even stare. "Hey, if you wanna become one with the Commander, that's your business, not mine."

Groaning loudly, Clarke rolls her head back, hoping it'll help drain the blood suddenly rushing to her face.  _At least it's not 'Princess'_ , she consoles herself.

"Clarke."

The blonde jumps at the familiar voice, and whirls in place to find the Commander herself standing in the entryway of Raven's workshop - a gift to the mechanic after her promise to help outfit TonDC with some basic tech during its rebuilding. Fighting the heat in her cheeks, Clarke takes a step towards Lexa, shooting Raven a warning glare when she opens her mouth to speak. Her jaw snaps shut, but Clarke doesn't miss the smirk curling at her lips.

"Hey Lexa, did you need me?" Her face heats again when she hears barely muffled snickering from behind her, but keeps her eyes steady on Lexa's face.

"I only had a question. It can wait if you are still speaking with Raven."

"No, I think we're done here, right Raven?" She turns back to see Raven lifting her hands in surrender and grinning impishly.

"Yeah, yeah, Griffin, we're done. Monitor, medbay, ASAP. I'm on it." She turns back to her bench to begin collecting her tools, tossing the still smoking transponder into a bin at her feet.

Clarke rolls her eyes again, but can't fight the smile that Raven's unique brand of sass brings her. She turns back to Lexa, schooling her expression into something a little more serious. She doesn't miss the way Lexa's eyes trail over her face, and her stomach twists in satisfaction at the intense look. "Sorry, what was your question, Lexa?"

"I heard a word today and I wished to ask you what it meant. It's one I have heard before, but only from the Sky people."

Clarke cocks her head, curious. "Of course."

"What is a 'fuck'?"

A heavy clank rattles from the workbench, followed by strangled coughing. Clarke, still stunned by the sound of  _that_  particular word leaving  _those_  particular lips, can only stare.

Raven, clearly holding back laughter with everything she has, manages to choke out, "Something I do not give. Have fun with this one, Chief - you're on your own," before limping out of the shed as quickly as her braced leg will allow. Lexa follows her movements curiously before swinging her gaze back to Clarke.

"This word has significance to you?" she presses.

"Uh yeah, it's um...Well…Okay. First of all, I kind of have to ask, where did you even hear that word?"

Lexa glances over her shoulder before looking back to Clarke. "I was speaking to Octavia and-"

"Oh God. Alright, c'mon. We might as well go get some lunch, this is probably gonna take awhile." She steps up to the Commander, tugging lightly on one of her many braids as she passes. Lexa isn't much one for PDA, something about maintaining an aloof persona, Clarke supposes, but that doesn't stop the blonde from subtle, teasing touches on occasion. Although if the flare that heats Lexa's gaze is any indication, maybe she's not as subtle as she likes to think she is.

Not that  _that's_  going to stop her either.


	2. Chapter 2

She’s going to kill Raven. Not literally, of course, because Raven’s been through enough, and she really is some kind of genius when it comes to technology rehabilitation. But yeah. As far as Clarke’s concerned, Raven is fucking toast.

In all fairness, Clarke is at least partly to blame for the mess she now finds herself in, but she can’t help thinking the mechanic should be shouldering most of it. If it weren’t for her constant grumbling and swearing that inexplicably attracts nearly half the female population of any given village she happens to be in....

 _At least her involvement is limited by infrequent exposure_ , Clarke admits sullenly.

After a long, involved, and entirely frustrating lesson in the subtleties of English profanities - for both parties involved - Clarke has never been more certain in her life that Lexa will absolutely be the death of her. And the worse part is, she’ll have no choice but to go with a smile on her lips and an embarrassing dampness between her thighs.

Lexa saying the word ‘fuck’ has much the same effect as Lexa saying Clarke’s name. It’s quiet, precise, and slowly destroying Clarke’s self-control from the inside out. A simple, four-letter word should not be able to make her squirm the way it does, and yet…

It might be the way Lexa bites out the final consonant, making it click sharply in the back of her throat. Or the way her eyes light with the memory of Clarke’s mortifyingly thorough explanation of the various uses of the word. Whatever the reason, it’s rapidly becoming a major distraction for the blonde.

Especially when Lexa gets angry.

Sort of like she is now.

Clarke stands silently at her right, their conversation having been interrupted by the scene before them, watching the confrontation as it unfolds. A warrior, one of Lexa’s scouts, kneels before Lexa’s throne, having been thrown there by the second warrior who stands behind him, bleeding sluggishly from one shoulder, clutching a small blade.

From what Clarke can understand, the knife belongs to the bleeding warrior, Brutus - a gift from his love, and therefore a symbol of their intent to be married, or whatever the trikru equivalent is. However it had gone missing a few days ago, only to show up on the belt of Malcolm, the warrior kneeling on the ground. Brutus had clearly taken exception when Malcolm had tried to defend himself with it.

“Yu don ste dig au kom swis, Makom. Brotos swis.” Lexa’s voice is cool and implacable as she stares down at the accused. Clarke shivers, berating herself for finding the hard cut of Lexa’s voice this attractive in the middle of an armed dispute.

Malcolm clears his throat, but his voice is shakey when he responds. “Em don ron ai op-”

“Spicha!” Brutus snarls, and Clarke feels fairly confident in assuming whatever he just said wasn’t complimentary. “Swis laik _ain_. Ain en Lora.” Brutus takes a step towards the cowering figure of Malcolm, but stills instantly at Lexa’s voice.

“Ste pleni, Brotos. Gyon au.”

Brutus nods stiffly and leaves, still clenching the bloody knife in his hand.

Lexa turns her eyes back to Malcolm, her expression hardening. She flicks her eyes up to one of her guards, who immediately steps forward to haul Malcolm to his feet. “Em ste splita. Pul em we.” The guard nods, but struggles as Malcolm begins to twist in his grasp.

“No, Heda, beja-”

“Shof op!” Lexa lunges forward, catching Malcolm’s throat in her grip and squeezing until he can only wheeze. “Yu laik _fucking_ skrish. Bants.” Clarke gasps and bites a knuckle to keep anymore noise from escaping. The guard glances at her curiously before dragging the gasping Malcolm out of the tent.

Lexa collapses back into her throne, seemingly unaware of the turmoil her fury has caused in the sky girl.

“Was-” Clarke coughs, embarrassed by the rawness of her voice, and starts again. “Was that really necessary?”

Lexa tenses, barely lifting her chin from where it slumps against her chest. “It’s a serious offense to interfere with someone else’s union, Clarke. If a man cannot respect the union of his neighbor, how can he be trusted to respect the union of his clan? By our laws, he should have been killed. It was only because Brutus was not seriously injured that Malcolm will be exiled instead. If you-”

Clarke steps closer, petting over Lexa’s clenched fist, and stilling her lecture. “That’s not what I meant, Lex.”

Lexa glances up, meeting Clarke’s soft smile with a sigh, her body relaxing once more. “What did you mean, then, Clarke?”

Balling her free hand against the wave of arousal that hearing her name on those lips always brings her, Clarke quirks an eyebrow in a teasing accusation. “You’ve gotten pretty foul-mouthed lately.”

The Commander stares as she works through the sentence, and Clarke can practically see her picking through each possible meaning of her sentence and discarding it, until finally she lands on the intended one with narrowed eyes and the beginnings of a smirk.

“It was called for,” she defends unconvincingly.

“I don’t think it was, Lexa. I do think you need to have your mouth washed out, though.” Clarke can’t stop the snort that escapes when Lexa’s sly expression immediately turns to one of confusion. Before she can ask for an explanation, Clarke cuts in again. “It’s something my mom used to threaten whenever she caught me using bad words. She would tell me if I insisted on using dirty words, that she would wash my mouth out to clean it again.”

Still frowning, Lexa cocks her head, curious as ever when learning something new about Clarke. “That sounds unpleasant,” she offers, and her frown softens in the face of Clarke’s laughter.

“It was when it was my mother doing the cleaning,” she chuckles.

Lexa relaxes, tugging Clarke around to perch in her lap. The sight would probably horrify Indra, but while it’s just the two of them, Clarke can’t help but indulge. Once she’s settled, Lexa wraps her right arm around Clarke’s back, gripping across denim clad thighs with her left.

“And what about when _you_ are doing the cleaning?”

Caught off guard by the heavy, seductive tone, Clarke can only stare in shock as the Commander looks up at her, challenge brightening her eyes and curling her perfect lips. Coming back to herself with a shake, Clarke grins before ducking down until they’re only millimeters apart.

“You tell me,” she husks before closing the distance.

In the back of her mind, the idle thought occurs to her that perhaps her tongue is not the best suited tool for cleaning, but then Lexa’s tongue begins to do some sweeping of its own and her thoughts stop altogether.

* * *

 

 **Translations:**  
 _Yu don ste dig au kom swis, Makom. Brotos swis._  
You were found with the knife, Malcolm. Brutus’ knife.

 _Em don ron ai op-_  
He gave me-

 _Spicha! Swis laik ain. Ain en Lora._  
Liar! The knife is mine. Mine and Laura’s.

 _Ste pleni, Brotos. Gyon au._  
That’s enough, Brutus. Go.

 _Em ste splita. Pul em we._  
He is outcast. Take him away.

 _No, Heda, beja-_   
No, Commander, please-

 _Shof op!_  
Silence!

 _Yu laik fucking skrish. Bants._  
You’re fucking shit. Leave.

**Author's Note:**

> For those of you who follow me on Tumblr at jellyman-kelly.tumblr.com, part two is already up (under the tag "#fic: Commander and Chief") there. As this was originally only a Tumblr fic, I will continue to post one chapter ahead of updates on this site as a treat to my followers. Thanks!


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